And we both loved every second of it.
We’d spent the last year trying our best at being “normal,” and it turned out . . . we were both a hell of a lot better at it than we thought we would be. I owned a mechanic shop that did a lot of business—though mostly because I was the only mechanic shop in town—and Heidi owned a bar right next door to my shop.
Just like old times, only a hell of a lot better.
She’d called her bar “the Dare.”
Once, we’d gotten a card from Scotty. He hadn’t written his name, or ours, and he’d mailed it from a different state, but I’d recognized his writing. It had contained a lot of money—from the bar, more than likely—and that was it. Despite the fact that we’d ditched my car just over the Massachusetts border and changed our last names, he’d figured out our location.
How? I had no fucking clue.
But he had, and if anyone was gonna know our location . . . well, I was glad it was him. I trusted him, and so did Heidi. And that was good enough for me.
I’d never been happier.
“Lucas?” Heidi called out from inside the house.
I set my water down. “Out here.”
The back door opened and Heidi came out into our fenced-in yard. “Hey, I got home a little early. I thought it would be fun to head out to the movies and—” When she saw the rosebushes—all ten of them—and the peach tree I’d planted, she stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping. “Oh my God. You planted a garden.”
“We kept saying we would have that normal garden in our normal house in our normal town.” I gestured to the house. “And we got all of that other stuff, but we never planted our garden . . . until now.”
She walked over to the tree I’d planted and touched its leaves. “What kind of tree is this?”
Smirking, I walked up directly behind her. “Guess.”
“I don’t—” She turned around and gasped.
I stood directly behind her, holding a peach in my hand. Lying on top of the peach was something shiny and bright. I grinned. “It’s a peach tree, of course.”
“Of—” She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “Lucas.”
“I thought of a million fucking ways to do this, you know. In a fancy restaurant, or on one of those ridiculous kiss-me cams at a baseball game, or in bed while naked. I thought of a million ways, and none of them felt right.” I dropped to one knee in front of her, peach in hand . . . and my heart, too. “And then it came to me. None of it felt right because that wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. A piece of the puzzle was missing.”
She laughed and shook her head. “The garden.”
“The garden.” I offered her the peach. She took it with trembling hands, her gaze locked on the ring on top of it. “I love you, darlin’.”
Reaching up, I grabbed her hand in between mine to steady it. Mine weren’t trembling, because I wasn’t nervous or uncertain. I knew what I was doing, and I was one hundred percent ready. “This is the second smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. The first was daring you to run away with me.”
She nodded frantically. “Yes.”
“And I—” I frowned. Wait. “You can’t answer me before I ask you, darlin’.”
“You don’t need to ask me. And you know that.” She fell to her knees in front of me, set the peach down between us, and framed my face, smiling brightly up at me. “But if it makes you feel better, go ahead and—”
“It does,” I muttered. “I want to do this the traditional way, damn it.”
Her lips twitched. “Go for it, by all means.”
“Thank you.” I took a breath. “Heidi Greene Buchanan, light of my life, love of my heart . . .”
She laughed. “Laying it on a little thick, huh?”
“Darlin’,” I teased, kissing her briefly, “you’re ruining my proposal.”
She mimed the act of zipping her lips.
“I know you deserve better than me, and that I’m not a good man. I’m definitely not a good enough man for you.” She opened her mouth to argue, and I pressed a finger to her lips. “Sh. My speech. I get to say what I want, and you’re not allowed to argue.” I paused, waiting to make sure she’d let me talk. She stayed silent. “But since I know you deserve better, that’s why I’m the best man for you. I’ll constantly be trying to do better, to be better, because you deserve the best in everything.”
“And I have it,” she whispered. “I have you. I know you think you’re not good, but to me . . . that’s all you’ve ever been. You’ve always been good to me, for me, and I love you with all my heart. And I love our normal life, and I love this garden.”
I grinned so wide my face should have cracked. “Well, then, in that case . . . Heidi Greene Buchanan, will you do me the honor of becoming Heidi Donahue Fischer?”
“Yes. Most definitely yes,” she said, kissing me again.